A Christmas Carol
by DodgerMD
Summary: A familiar story with new protagonists. ;)
1. Chapter 1

**Two things before you continue reading.**  
**First: My mothertongue isn't english, so I again would like to apologize in advance for any weird use of words, grammar or punctation mistakes.**  
**Second: I have absolutely no medical knowledge! Everything you read here is from Wikipedia or plain made-up. I still would ask you to kindly just take these things as given, even if you know they are wrong. The story is just supposed to be for fun and not for medical correctness. ;)**  
**Other than that - _Merry Christmas and enjoy reading!_**

7:33, the radio-alarm kicked in with 'Last Christmas' by Wham. House groaned to himself as he began to stir in bed. He had the feeling, he just had fallen asleep half an hour ago and who knew, maybe it was true. It had been a pretty rough night for him, at some point he had stopped checking the time, also right now the throbbing pain in his leg made him wish to still be fast asleep. Not to mention that horrid song! Since the middle of November he already was tortured with all this Christmas rubbish! All of the sudden everyone loved each other and wanted to help each other, just because of some orphan with a questionable father, born in a stable. He didn't even know what all the singing and reindeers and all the fluffy red and white and green glitter stuff had to do with it. It was the very fest of hypocrites, who spent the year not giving a damn and then suddenly cared for everyone. Bah! Humbug.

His grouchy thoughts didn't quite help with either the pain or the mood he was in, so he came to the point, he might as well just get up.

Taking a deep breath, he so rolled out of bed, supporting his sore leg with one hand. He took a moment to just sit at the edge of the bed and rub at his leg with eyes focused at nothing. It was almost meditation, losing himself in the pain for a couple moments and the wish for it to go away. It wouldn't, he knew and so, ending his little pain mantra with a flinch of his face, he reached for his cane, pushed himself to his feet and limped stiffly to the kitchen.

There the morning didn't exactly get any more satisfying. He had coffee and Vicodin, his usual breakfast, then climbed into the shower and stayed there for a while, in hopes the warm water would sooth some of the pain, until the Vicodin would kick in. No such luck today, so he got out of the shower and into his clothes to get going, maybe there would be some distraction at the hospital.

When he exited the building, he however already found the next annoyance waiting for him. It seriously had snowed at night. Quite a lot, too. Well, they had warned about it, but the people from the weather station usually were as often right as Foreman was cheerful. Then again, today proved, that both might happen.

House sighed. He hated snow. It was cold and wet and deep, it made you have to lift your feet high and that was something jot exactly comfortable to him, not to mention how floors got all slippery due to snow and slipping was also no fun for someone, who already had issues walking on straight, dry ground. And the worst was, it made all kids go crazy!

Almost as if he had called them upon him, a bunch of screaming, laughing kids came suddenly running around the corner. The source was soon found, one of these cheap Santa's, all kinds of stores hired during Christmas, who was standing nearby, ringing his bell and giving out candy from a big sack in front of him. The kids just rushed pass House, not really paying attention to where they went, causing him to slightly stumble backwards, end up putting too much weight on his right leg, which was immediately responded, by a sharp, searing pain, that made him go hot and cold the very same time. He gave a hiss to himself, followed by furiously turning after the kids, once the pain had faded enough for him to turn it into anger.

"What's wrong with you twats? The guy probably just needs the money for booze! Santa Clause doesn't even exist!" He sneered.

"Hey, man, that really wasn't necessary!" a father of one of the kids huffed, while the boys and girls just stared wide-eyed.

"Yeah, it wouldn't be, if you wouldn't find it necessary to tell your kids a bunch of lies, ruining their childhood at some point, once they find out their childhood heroes are nothing, but lies!", House barked back.

The man just shook his head, while the Santa shot him an evil glare. House just gave a little huff to himself, shook his head and limped off towards his car.


	2. Chapter 2

House reached the hospital after about double the time he would usually need to get there, because snow didn't just make the kids go crazy, but also traffic. So his mood hadn't exactly gotten any better, when he finally came limping into the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro hospital. His leg was still hurting, the Vicodin had at least finally helped some, but it apparently would be one of those days, where not even the Codeine was able to take away most of the pain. As if that wasn't enough, the ever annoying spirit of Christmas, that lingered all over Jersey these days, even continued stalking him here. The lobby was nicely decorated, as if the sick people coming here would really care about it, along with the Christmas songs which were silently playing in the background, would cheer anybody up. It definitely didn't work on House, who merely scoffed to himself, as he went on, heading for the elevator, where he heard the cheering of children for the second time today, as he waited for the doors to open.

Turning his head, he found a Santa standing over at the waiting area, where the biggest Christmas tree was placed, giving out little gifts to a bunch of sick little children. Apparently Cuddy also had hired herself one of these, well, somehow they had to pay for their booze and drugs, hadn't they? Dressing up for bold little kids that would soon go toes up was probably better than begging in front of Walmart hoping for moms feeling the need to show their spoiled little brats charity by tossing a coin for a beggar.

It was just when House was musing, that all of the sudden the Santa lifted his head and turned to look from the kids straight at him! House lifted both his brows in surprise, when he saw a glare behind the beard and hat. Could it be the same guy? No, that was just ridiculous.

The elevator's doors opened and House stepped inside, still feeling the glare on him. Nah, it probably was just one of the colleagues, who had felt the need to play Santa, after all, whom he had annoyed more than once already. Which was pretty much everyone in this hospital.

Taking that silly thought as a result of his tiredness and the pain he was in, House continued on to his office, once the elevator had reached its destination. He already was looking forward to a nice nap in his chair, when to his great dismay, he found Cuddy standing in his office. She was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, brows raised, a woman ready to stand her ground, unlike House today, who very much wanted to stop standing all together.

"What?" he groaned, not caring to hide the annoyance in his tone.

"Clinic duty." Cuddy replied quite as simple and also making no secret about the order in her tone.

"My leg hurts." House continued their no-more-than-necessary conversation.

"It always hurts, that's no reason." Cuddy cocked a brow, unimpressed.

"It hurts more than usual. I need to sit down." House returned flatly.

"Then sit down in a consulting room. You are also a whole lot more behind your clinic duty and holidays are approaching, people want to have days off, you have many days to work, now go down and work." Cuddy stayed cold as iron.

House paused, glaring at her in his most evil, unforgiving way, the way that told she would pay for this eventually, would she really make him do this.

Cuddy just glared back, taking his unspoken threat with eyes that told him this time she would fight.

He huffed and without any further word turned around again and limped off once more, assuming she would probably keep standing in his office for another ten minutes, just to make sure he wouldn't return. Well, he had not lied about the pain and since he did not want to stand another ten minutes and wait, he as well could go down to the clinic and have his revenge later.

"Woah, hey, where are you going with that face on? Should I better hide the virgins?" Wilson's voice made him snap out of his gruff musings.

His friend was just exiting his office, wearing a red tie with a Christmas tree on it.

"Are you serious?" House just said, knowing Wilson knew what he meant.

"What? Can I not appreciate Christmas, because I'm a Jew?" Wilson returned.

"Well, it's kinda ironic to celebrate his birth, when you guys killed the guy a couple years later." House stopped.

"You're being cynical . . ." Wilson shook his head lightly.

"You're being hypocritical." House answered, followed by furrowing his brows, "Why are you locking your office?" he asked, while waiting for Wilson, who first looked for for the right key and then turned it around twice.

"Because somebody repeatedly has gotten into my office, while I wasn't there and either stolen my food or pulled a prank on me." Wilson looked over his shoulder, this actually made a tiny little smile shortly appear on House's lips.

With a nod of his head, Wilson then turned to the elevator, House at his side.

"Let me guess, Cuddy slapped clinic duty on you?" Wilson assumed.

"Yep. She knows she's gonna pay for it." House shook his head.

"Oh, come on, can't you show least a tiny bit of Christmas Spirit? She really needs everybody she can get down there, people want to take their holidays and the same time more people than usual come to the clinic during the holidays and you, my friend, care as little about Christmas as you always tell me I actually should. It doesn't matter, if you're down there or not." Wilson stated.

House rolled his eyes,

"First, you really shouldn't care less about Christmas and second, yes, I don't give a shit about Christmas, but that makes me want to go down there even less, I mean, have you already been there? It's like Christmas purgatory and hypocrisy heaven the same time!" House mocked.

"Okay, I maybe do not celebrate Christmas per se, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate people actually taking the time to care for each other and show affection? Even if it's just once a year?" Wilson didn't quite give up, House just gave a bitter laugh.

"Oh, stop it, Wilson! They pretend to care for a couple weeks once a year and afterwards they give less than shit about all those poor, poor sick people and little cripples and whatever! It's nothing, but some hypocritically humbug and I definitely don't need anything off it."

"You're such a pessimist." Wilson shook his head.

"I'm a realist." House shortly lifted both his brows cockily.

"You're just being grouchy and letting your frustration out on everyone else. If you keep going like this, you'll end up visited by three ghosts one night." Wilson returned, folding his arms.

"Ohhhh, now stop it, Marley! If I see a funny doorknob, I will know, who put it there." House gave back, clearly getting Wilson's reference on Dickens' A Christmas Carol and returning it with one of his own.

Just that moment the elevator door opened, House turned to step inside, when suddenly, among the people inside, he stood. Santa! House hardly could see anything of the face, which was mostly hidden by the fake beard, eyebrows and hat, but he saw the glare Santa shot him. Directed straight at him.

He took a swaying step backwards, which made Wilson immediately lift his arms out of reflex, House just keeping to stare, while the door closed again.

"You okay?" Wilson asked, returning House to reality.

He turned to look at Wilson, saw his arms and gave an ungrateful huff,

"What's that supposed to be? You wanna hug me, so my heart grows three numbers? I'm really sorry, but I'm perfectly fine with my size, if you get what I mean?" he mocked with a wink,

"And I gladly leave aaall the Christmas hypocrisy to experts such as you." House added, pushing pass Wilson, when the second elevator's doors opened. From inside he shot Wilson a quick glance, seeing him roll his eyes some, then the doors closed.


	3. Chapter 3

House arrived at the clinic and just like he had assumed, found himself in Christmas purgatory. Like that he actually, for once was glad, that the nurses already were ready to bury him underneath the papers of waiting patients that crowded the waiting area even more than usual. It was no big surprise to him though, that even in the shape of the patients, he continued being haunted by the ever-so-present spirit of Christmas.

His first patient was a little girl, who had had so much raw cookie dough, she now was puking her soul out, next was a man, who had slipped off the ladder, while trying to fix some Christmas decorations and broken two fingers, then there were two boys, who had had a wild sleigh race and eventually ended up hugging a tree, earning them both a mild concussion for Christmas, then came a baby with a bloody hand, because it's parents were blessedly stupid and had given a 2-year-old a Christmas ornament, which had been immediately squished to hundreds of beautiful, sparkling, bloody shards. House eventually felt himself very much proven, that Christmas brought not just out the hypocrite in everyone, but also the finest of idiot.

Already guessing for a candle having burned off someone's hair or an electric burning from some decoration-lights, House entered the next consulting room. Just to find Him there! Santa!

He took a stumbling step back out of unpleasant surprise, when Santa said,

"Woaaah, dude. You're already the second one scared if me today."

It was just then, that House noticed the beard pulled down over the man's chin, the paper towel in his hand and the blood dripping from his nose. That definitely was not the same guy. The young man appeared no older than 25, with that air if a chilled-out student around him.

"What happened? Brought the wrong gifts?" House asked.

The young man just laughed,

"Nah, y'know, I'm being Santa in that mall, earns you some bucks easier than waiting at the diner..."

"Not to mention the little brats bashing your nose in ..." House added.

"Ahh, that wasn't the kid's fault. He was scared, but his mom still wanted him to sit on my lap, little guy didn't know what to do, so when I asked him what he wanted, he punched me straight in the face." the young man shrugged with an amused expression.

"Precious." House stated sarcastically.

"Most of the kids are really super sweet. And its Christmas, that little mishap ain't gonna ruin my mood." the young man continued smiling, House only could roll his eyes somewhat to himself, the young man however seemed to notice though and added,

"You maybe should try some Christmas spirit too, doc. Might do you goo-ouch!" he stopped mid-sentence, when House pressed two fingers on both sides of the man's nose.

"Your nose is broken. Merry Christmas." House said cynically, "I'm gonna get you an x-ray and an appointment with a colleague." with that he got up and left the room.

Turning in the patient's papers, House turned around with the intention to leave, this definitely had already been enough stupidity and Christmas humbug for one day. However, just when he turned around he suddenly saw Him standing there again! Not the young man from before, this definitely was The Santa, glaring right at him from across the corridor, only a couple feet away. House took a start backwards, lost balance, smacked against a door behind him and stumbled into the room and against one of the drawers. A searing pain rushed from his leg up his spine, making him get almost nauseous, while he clutched his leg with one hand, gritting his teeth and supporting himself with the other on the drawer.

"Um. Hello? You okay?" the sudden voice made House give another little start, followed by the heat of pain once again shooting into his head. The pain directly unloading itself in anger about whoever caused it, House turned around with a most furious glare, yet, what he saw made his anger drop and be replaced by confused surprise.

In the consulting room stood a family, all three of them looked very hard on the narrow border between poor and beggar, yet the really curious sight was their little boy, a really thin, short, pale little kid in some way too large, old wheelchair. Teaching by the nonexistent muscles on his legs, the boy probably never had taken a real step in his life. House blinked at them and they stared back at him, until the father, who turned out to be the one, who had spoken up before, said:

"Timothy is ill."

"Obviously." House just returned.

"No, I mean, yes, but he is more ill mow. Maybe he caught a flu, he has hardly any appetite, he is hot and then cold and he sleeps a lot." the father explained.

"I don't feel well, sir." the boy agreed in the most sympathetic voice House had ever heard. God, Cameron and Wilson would probably bash in their heads to care about the little wimp.

"Yeees, and that might not have to do with his...?" House cocked a brow, the parents stayed silent.

"What was he diagnosed with before?" House added.

The parents looked at each other, then the mother said in a shy voice:

"He can't walk. He never could."

"That is a fact no diagnosis." House started becoming a little impatient.

The parents again were silent, looking at each other and then the floor.

"Are you telling me, your kid can't walk and you never went to a doctor to maaaaaybe have it checked? He could have a severe genetic disorder or be misshaped organically, you could have killed the kid, it actually is a real big surprise to me he is still alive! I've seen a lot, but you two seriously are on top of all idiocy! Why? Are you in some religious sect or two if these let-nature-do-it freaks?" House yelled.

"We have no insurance, okay!" the father finally admitted, "We love our boy, so much, but we can't afford all those things. Timmy is a happy boy the way he is, please just treat him for the flu and we are gone again." the father pleaded, probably already fearing his son being taken away.

"I don't think so," House just returned, limping to the boy and kneeing down in front of him with a little flinch.

"What are you talking about? You can't take aw..." the father began, but was interrupted by House.

"Shut up!" he hissed "Your son is having a severe epileptic seizure."

"But. But he's not having any cramps." the mother gasped confused.

"We're not in a movie, not all seizures show in cramps. If you ever would have gone to a doctor with the kid, they might have told you. Who knows how many he already had! You definitely are going nowhere today." House stated, getting back to his feet and calling out an emergency.


	4. Chapter 4

After this patient clinic duty was definitely done for House today. He made his ducklings assemble and a couple of hours later, they met again in the office, where House wrote on the whiteboard.

"You are not seriously dubbing him Tiny Tim." Foreman groaned, when he saw what House was writing.

"What else should I call the kid? I mean, have you seen him? And his parents were cruel enough to actually call him Timothy, too." House returned.

"Well, you gotta give him that." Chase just mumbled, which earned Foreman a smirk by House and Chase a dark glare by Foreman, while Cameron just rolled her eyes in aggravation.

"Okay, 9 years old boy, paralysis, epileptic seizures, general weakness, tell me what we got." House then dropped the subject.

"Not much. His spine seems just fine, no fractures or degenerations, yet his legs have pretty much no reflexes at all." Foreman stated.

"He says he sometimes feels a funny tickling in his toes." Cameron added.

"I also sometimes have a funny tickling somewhere, costs me a fortune every time to get rid of it." House mumbled, making Cameron shake her head, while Chase shortly grinned to himself.

"What about the seizure?" House asked.

"He's stable again, but it definitely wasn't his first. Due to the fact we know nothing about how long he has had them or how strong they have been in the past, it's hard to really take anything from it, though." Foreman shrugged.

"That helps a lot." House muttered, "What did MRT say?"

"Nothing, the parents won't allow us any more tests." Chase shrugged.

Why? I mean, they are clearly morons, but if they wanna get rid of their kid, they shouldn't have come here in the first place." House sneered.

"House, they have no insurance, they can't afford all this!" Cameron returned heatedly, "They both are on minimum wage, their older daughter is working abroad and saving up all year to least be here on Christmas!"

"That is all very sad, but not at all helping the diagnosis." House mocked.

"We need to call CPT or tell Cuddy!" Cameron insisted.

"Yeah, great idea, so they take the kid away from the parents, that will totally help." House returned sharply.

"You just don't want me to tell, because you want to make sure the boy stays here." Cameron stated.

"Yes, I do! Maybe because the kid is sick and never has been treated correctly his entire life. Maybe this makes me want to first try finding out what is wrong with the kid, before getting the kid taken who-knows-where, because here is the best treatment he can get and you know this as much as I do. If you really want to live up to this damn Christmas spirit you keep talking about, then hold your trap and first let me find out what actually is wrong with the kid, before running to safe the ass of your oh-so-high moral standards." House raised his voice, making all three young doctors grow utterly silent for a moment.

House glared at them, when suddenly his gaze wandered outside the glass wall of the office, where He was standing. Santa. Glaring back at him. House's eyes went wide for a moment, making his team turn to have a look at what all of the sudden made their boss go from furious to frightened.

"Are you scared of Santa?" Chase finally said with an amused tone, which apparently returned House to reality.

"Oh, that was Santa? I thought it was Satan, man, I always get them mixed up, gee." House rolled his eyes jokingly, ignoring the odd looks his team shot him.

"What about the boy, now?" Cameron finally asked.

"Go get me the full round of tests. I wanna know why he should be okay, but isn't." House ordered.

"But they won't let us do any more tests." Chase repeated.

"Then tell them the kid is gonna die." House groaned tiredly.

"But we don't know that." Cameron said.

"Neither do they!" House snapped, his tone making clear, that this was the end of any discussions and so his three ducklings all got to their feet and waddled out, to di as they had been told.

When they were gone, House looked outside, Santa was gone, too. He shortly bit his lip, then limped for the door and opened it. He looked left, no Santa. He looked right, no Santa. He came to the conclusion, that he was really acting like an utter moron and went outside, heading for Wilson's office.

He was about half-way to it, when he looked back down the corridor and suddenly saw Santa coming down it, heading straight at him, glaring furiously!

House turned and limped the last couple of steps as quick as he by any means could and straight into Wilson's office, who looked up from his desk puzzled, by finding House leaning against the door, eyes wide with horror.

"Uh, hello?" Wilson eventually said.

"I am being stalked by Santa Clause." House returned gravely.

"Have you been that naughty?" Wilson merely returned in a bemused tone.

"Don't joke about that, Wilson! There is a psychopath following me! He probably wants to murder me!" House continued dramatically, sitting down in the chair in front of Wilson's desk.

"Why should some guy in a Santa costume follow you around?" Wilson obviously still did take this very seriously.

"Iiii might have been a little rude to him this morning..." House admitted.

"In the lobby?" Wilson asked.

"No, in front of my house. Why in the lobby? Now he wants me dead." House lamented, Wilson only could chuckle at that, shaking his head some, when House shot him an evil glare, not appreciating not being taken seriously.

"Listen, House, I only have to look at you to see you are tired and in pain, you seriously look like crap. Your head is probably just making all this up. There are people dressed up as Santa running around this time of year everywhere, that doesn't mean one is after you." Wilson soothed.

"I have a patient." House mumbled.

"And I'm sure you already sent out your team and they will do whatever you wanted them to, in the meantime you might as well take a nap, instead of imagining Bad Santa following you around, don't you think?" Wilson suggested.

House said nothing, but just looked around in an almost shy way, like a kid not wanting to admit an advice sounded really good.

"It will definitely do you good, heck, throw in a Vicodin more, if it helps you. Who knows, you might get blessed with one dream or another." Wilson went on.

House looked up, "No more of this Christmas crap." he sighed.

"I was more likely thinking of a blessing by Carmen Electra." Wilson winked.

House had to smile at that, followed by a nod of agreement. He really felt tired and exhausted. Pushing himself back to his feet, he exited Wilson's office and headed back for his own, where he soon flopped down in his comfortable armchair with a long sigh. It felt good to rest his sore leg on the cushion.

He reached inside his pocket and drew out the little, orange bottle that was his most loyal companion. He pondered for a moment, he had taken a pill 4 hours ago, then one 2 hours ago, because the pain hadn't seemed to fade at all. Ah, whatever, he just wanted to sleep.

He dry swallowed the third pill within the last 6 hours and closed his eyes with another sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Moments after he had closed his eyes, House already felt the thick, heavy feeling of sleep taking the better of him. Yet, what felt like only moments later, he suddenly heard a voice.

"_House?_" the voice said. It sounded odd, far away and even though it was soft and spoke with a gentle tone, there was something persistent about it. Something bugging, that wouldn't let you go, no matter how hard you tried. Like a tiny itch or a tiny little cut, that still kept burning like hell. A highly annoying voice he knew well.

"_House?_" the voice said again and suddenly House became aware just why he knew it.

"Cameron?" he mumbled in an irritated tone, not 100% sure, if he already was saying it out-loud or still just thinking it to himself, while still trying desperately to stay asleep. However, he knew there was no way to escape and so forced his eyes open, even though his eyelids felt like made of cement.

And indeed, there she stood in front of him, looking down with that eyes that always seemed to show a mixture of concern and annoyance by everything he did.

"What on earth do you want!" he sneered, not at all appreciating being waken up.

"I need to show you something." She said.

"What? Unlike the boy just had a severe stroke, I very much doubt there is anything worthy you would want to show me, unless you suddenly found a super-speed way to run all the tests I ordered you to do." House returned in a gruff tone.

"I still need to show you something." She again said and smiled. A weird, inscrutable smile, he honestly never had seen on her before. It made him tilt his head slightly, was he high from the three Vicodin he had taken or what was going on?

"There is no way you are going to get me out of this chair, Cameron." He finally stated.

She merely continued to smile oddly.

"I need to show you something." Was all she then repeated and before House could do or say anything, she already had reached out for his hand and pulled him out of the chair as if he weight nothing!

House neither could do nor say anything, it all happened so fast and before he knew what happened, he was standing in the middle of a lot of people. He looked around utterly puzzled, before turning to Cameron beside him, who still smiled. Yep. He definitely was high.

"What is this? Some sort of weird dream and you are here to remind me that 3 Vicodin are actually too much? Can't you and your morals least stay outta my dreams? Or wear a hot nurse outfit, at least?" he asked her.

She just chuckled softly.

"Watch, there." She said.

House turned were she was nodding with her head and just then realized, that they weren't just in a random crowded room.

"This is County General." He muttered. It was the hospital he had worked in before Princeton.

"Yes. You enjoyed it here, didn't you?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, it was fun, I guess. Wilson and I got in a lot of trouble and I met . . ." he stopped in mid-sentence, when all of the sudden he saw her rushing around the corner. Stacy! She was beautiful, just like he remembered her. Gentle and the same time proud, the grace and steeliness of a lioness. There was nobody pushing her around. Never. She was witty, she was sarcastic and she always had had the arms to meet him in battle.

She was laughing heartily, obviously playfully running from someone. It didn't take long for her chaser to follow, tall and with a mischievous grin on his face, he grabbed her arm and pulled her over. She fought him teasingly, while he dragged her under a doorframe, where a mistletoe was placed.

"Woops, look where we all coincidently met." He teased.

"You're and idiot, Greg!" she pushed him away, just to grab his shirt and pull him down somewhat for a kiss.

"You were quite handsome." Cameron mused.

"Isn't that the wrong tense you're using?" House lightly cocked a brow.

"Men don't grow old, they just grow interesting?" Cameron suggested.

"There we go, my head least knows what I wanna hear." House nodded.

Meanwhile his younger self and Stacy were still in the middle of their kiss, when suddenly a smashed Wilson came rushing for them, wearing a Panty as a hat and having a mug of Christmas punch in hand.

"Guys! Guys! You gotta come! Nurse Jacky is dancing on the table and about to lift her shirt! C'mooon!" he rushed, already staggering away.

Stacy and the younger House shared a glance.

"You wanna go look?" he asked almost challengingly.

"Oh, sure thing, we still got that bet going about her boobs being real or not and I intend on winning!" she said, taking his hand and dragging him with her to the next room.

House watched them leave, not noticing a bit of a smile having appeared on his face, until he saw Cameron looking up at him.

"What? She had damn big boobs. Were falsies, though. I won." He just said.

Cameron continued to smile this odd smile, that slowly made him feel uneasy and said:

"Come on. Let's see another passed Christmas."

They turned around and suddenly, it was another crowd they were looking at. It again was a Christmas Party, but this time House clearly could see they were at Princeton Plainsboro.

"What's that now?" he asked, looking around some.

"Look.", Cameron said, turning her head. House followed and again found Stacy, she was standing a bit awkward and almost a bit lost near the entrance. She still was proud and beautiful, but her eyes were sad and tired.

"It's 2 years later. After the infarction . . ." Cameron stated.

"I know." House just mumbled, while Stacy quickly threw out a cigarette butt, before entering completely.

"She started smoking. She tried to hide it, but I always knew. It was due to the stress I put her in." he sighed somewhat, "I had kicked her out that night, because she had wanted me to go to this damn party, but I hadn't wanted to see anybody. Didn't know she had gone by herself." He told.

"Well, apparently you did, how else should you now see it in your dream?" Cameron asked.

House cocked a brow at her, but nodded,

"Yeah. Probably hadn't wanted to know."

Meanwhile Cuddy had come over to Stacy, the two greeting each other friendly, followed by Cuddy asking something, yet Stacy just shook her head, to which Cuddy's expression grew sympathetic. She placed a hand on the back of her shoulder and led her in, obviously to introduce her to some people, trying to distract her and get her to relax and have some fun, even though it was obvious Stacy was not going to have any.

"You hurt her a lot. It was you who made her leave." Cameron said.

"Yeah. I know." House just breathed, then shaking his head, turning to Cameron, "Listen, I know I've been an idiot to let her go, but what is this crap supposed to teach me? I'm an arse? Well, I know that, none of this nice show necessary. So, why the magic show?" House questioned.

Cameron yet again gave an inscrutable smile,

"How should I know? I'm just a weird dream, am I not?"

House tilted his head slightly.


	6. Chapter 6

House woke up with a little gasp. He was back in his chair, in his office, yet to his surprise he found Chase standing in front of the chair, looking down at him with a, even for his terms, incredibly stupid grin on his face. Taking a second glance, the young Australian doctor looked pretty dishevelled altogether. His hair was messy, his tie hung loosely around his neck, his collar was opened and his shirt had slipped out of his pants on one side.

"Are you drunk?" House asked, after having given him a closer look.

"Croiky, I'm smashed!" Chase laughed with a slight slur in his speech.

House furrowed his brows, then heaved a breath,

"Lemme guess, I'm not awake yet?" He asked.

Chase gave a grunt,

"Nope."

"Listen, I know you are just my subconscious trying to tell me, well, something. But can't you just tell me here and leave me in this nice, comfy chair?" House said.

"No way, House-master. You gotta go join the party!" Chase just returned with the unbreakable cheerfulness of a really drunk person and before House could even sound his protest about 'House-master', Chase had grabbed his arm and just like Cameron before pulled him out of the chair, as if he was light as air.

Once again House found himself in a crowded room, once again a Christmas party was going on, yet this time he saw a lot of familiar faces he saw every day these days. There was Wilson flirting with one of the nurses and apparently not without success, teaching by the way she was giggling at everything he said. Then there was Cuddy, talking and laughing with some probably rich and important people, she hoped to raise funds from. He also saw head-nurse Brenda and finally Cameron and Foreman standing not far away, talking with each a mug in hand. They seemed to actually quite enjoy themselves, both looking surprisingly relaxed and light-hearted. They suddenly turned right their direction and Cameron raised a hand, waving.

House was about to slightly lift his, mostly out of reflex, when he realised, she had not seen him, but Chase, who threw his hand in the air.

"Heeeeeey! There you are!" he yelled and left House's side, staggering over to his two colleagues.

"Dude, you are really drunk." Foreman chuckled somewhat.

"Thank you very much." Chase answered with a stupid grin.

"I think you really had enough punch now, Chase, don't you think it's time to go home?" Cameron suggested, with a slightly concerned smile.

"Nooo, it's time to party!" Chase just protested.

"Cameron is right, man, you're drunk, go home." Foreman agreed.

"Ohhhkay, if you can solve my riddle!" Chase bargained.

"Please." Cameron sighed, yet Foreman stopped her.

"No, let's see what he got." he smirked, Cameron giving in with a little sigh.

"Okay, what riddle?" she asked.

Chase smirked stupidly once more.

"Sooo, I look for a beast that grunts and growls, but roams the streets of jersey freely. We see it every day and even though it is highly venomous, we don't die, when it bites and sneers at us." Chase questioned.

Foreman and Cameron pondered for a moment, which seemed to amuse Chase greatly.

"I'd say an animal at the zoo, but you said it was roaming free. Is it maybe a lawyer?" Cameron guessed.

"Lawyer sound good to me, too." Foreman agreed.

"Pfff, and you wanna be part of the Nr. One diagnostics team in the country." Chase mocked.

"Oh, leave me alone with House least tonight. I'm happy I don't have to deal with him here or have him ruin the party." Foreman huffed.

"Don't be like that, Foreman, you know House . . ." Cameron soothed, just to stop in mid-sentence, "Ohhh, I know, it's House. The riddle is House!" she exclaimed in triumph.

Foreman chuckled somewhat, while Chase gave a defeated noise.

"Good one, though." he told Chase with a short pat on the shoulder.

"Time to go home now, Partyking." Cameron then said, grabbing Chase by the arm and dragging him with her.

Just as they passed House, Chase suddenly turned to face him again.

"Let's dash off." he winked and before he knew what happened, the party was gone, the people were gone and it was just him and Chase standing in one of the hospital corridors.

"A beast that grunts and growls?" House muttered.

Chase merely gave an amused shrug.

"It does kinda fit." he stated bluntly and House couldn't help, but give a tad of a nod, okay, maybe it really kind of did.

"Why are we here now?" House then asked.

Chase didn't have to answer though, because a young woman came rushing down the corridor and into one of the rooms, were she was heartily greeted by her parents and younger brother. The young woman didn't look any less poor than her family, yet it appeared utterly enough for everyone to be together, even if the mother soon broke out in tears, the rest of the family trying their best to comfort her, even the tiny, weak little boy in the bed.

"You still don't know what is wrong with him." Chase said.

"No, I don't." House admitted.

"His sister made sure to come early. It might cost her, her minimum wage job, but she doesn't care, she wants to be here, in case her little brother dies." Chase stated, not at all sounding drunk anymore, "You say Christmas is a humbug, yet it is all this family got. It might as well be their last together."

"And what am I supposed to do? I'm not Santa giving out gifts to those, who deserve it. Life's not like this!" House growled.

"Is it not?" Chase asked.

"No, it ain't. This is all pointless, why are you even here, if you can't even properly help me?" House slowly got angered by all this.

Chase once mire began to grin stupidly,

"Why should I care? I'm here to party!" he laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

Once again House woke up in his chair with a little gasp, yet this time he already felt the rock was cooking and so was only mildly surprised, when he found Foreman standing in front of the chair, looking down at him. His face was somewhere between serious and annoyed, as per usual, yet there also was a certain coldness to his eyes, that for some reason made House feel uncomfortable.

He however tried to not show any of this and instead said,

"Lemme guess, you also need to show me something?"

Foreman said nothing, he just kept looking at House through cold, distant eyes for another moment, before he simply turned around and headed for the door.

"Hey, what about that cool trick? Oh, it was clear you would let a cripple get up on his own." House called after Foreman, getting out of his chair himself this time.

Foreman had merely waited in the doorway and when House followed, walked through it, with House in his wake.

"Where are we now going? You gonna show me how the parents of the little guy cry at his grave, because I could not find out what was wrong with him? Well, I would definitely appreciate some more concrete information then, if you only gonna try torture me with my subconscious guilt, we can both stop right here." House said gruffly, he already was really having enough of this cryptic dream.

Foreman did not answer anything, he just stopped right outside the office and turned around again.

A little confused, House also turned, finding them looking at his office, however, it no longer seemed to be his office. A janitor was just busy scratching his name off the glass door.

House furrowed his brows somewhat and turned to Foreman, who still did not say a thing, but just watched coldly. It was then, that House realized, that also Cuddy was standing in front of the office. She had her arms crossed and her eyes showed a mixture of anger and sadness. She heaved s bit of a sigh, just to raise her glance, when she saw Wilson approach, whose expression reflected hers a lot, just that he appeared even more sad than angry.

Cuddy placed a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture for a moment, Wilson nodding gratefully.

"He had it coming. We shouldn't be sad, he wouldn't be either." Wilson finally said.

"Don't say that. You know, it's not true. He maybe would've pretended not to care a bit, but the truth would've been different." Cuddy returned firmly.

"Yes, but sometimes it's just comforting to pretend." Wilson sighed.

Cuddy nodded understanding,

"Then let's pretend." she nodded, just to add, "How was the funeral?"

"Hardly anybody was there, I thought his parents would come, but they were away, so..." Wilson told.

House stopped to listen, but furiously turned his attention to Foreman.

"Seriously?" he sneered, "You are showing me, that I died and nobody cares? What sort of shit us this? Do you hope I will get all scared and become, I don't know, Cameron? I had enough of this bullshit, can I wake up now, so I least can try helping the little hobo?" House commanded.

Foreman again just looked at him coldly and unimpressed. House heaved an aggravated breath.

"No such luck, huh?" he asked, Foreman just shook his head.

House gave an annoyed click of his tongue.

"Then least give me something to wor..." he stopped in mid-sentence, when he heard Wilson say: "Do you know who will get the office after him?"

House turned to look at the door, where the janitor was done scratching off the old letters and had just finished sticking the new ones to the door. 'Clause Santa, M.D.' they read.

"Are you fricking kidding me?" House hissed, throwing Foreman a glare, before ripping open the door and rushing inside, where He was sitting behind his desk. Santa. Glaring at him, but this time, House glared back.

"What! What do you want! Why do you keep following me? Even in my dreams! If you got a problem, say it!" he yelled, all this making him furious.

Santa just glared at him for another moment and House glared back, when suddenly Santa got up and holding out a little, nicely wrapped parcel said in an all too familiar voice:

"I got a gift."

House stared for a moment, his eyes becoming big.

"Oh." he said, when it suddenly all made sense.

With a mighty start House woke up. It took him a couple of moments to realize he really had woken up now, but the now dull, yet persistent, pain in his leg soon ensured to him the fact, he was no longer sleeping. He was no longer sleeping! He had to find the team! He knew what was wrong!

Struggling back to his feet, he rushed out of the office as fast as he could, just to run straight into Him. Santa. Once again glaring at him from behind beard, wig, hat and fake brows.

"No time to play anymore, Cuddy. Gotta safe a life." he just said, pushing pass her and hurrying on.

"How did you know?" Cuddy called after him, while pulling off beard and hat.

"Not even all the stuffing can properly hide your rack!" he called over his shoulder, not slowing down.

Cuddy looked after him for another moment, before she couldn't help, but smile to herself.

"Listen, we cannot allow you to leave. We will have to inform CPT if you do." Foreman said, while Timmy's mother continued packing the little belongings they had into an old sports bag.

"So you want to take away our child?" she said.

"No we..." Cameron began, but was interrupted by Foreman.

"Yes, we do, but only because we want the best for him. He needs more tests." he told persistently.

"And because we can't afford them, you want to steal our child." the father returned.

"Yes, because you can't afford the treatment he needs." Chase crossed his arms.

"But he needs his family!" the mother again cried, while her son just watched weakly.

"Mrs. Cratchit, please..." Cameron began, but was interrupted, when the door was suddenly ripped open by House. Everybody in the room turning to stare at him.

"Santa left him a gift!" House told in a triumphant tone.

"A gift?" little Timmy piped up.

"No real gift, kid. Wasn't even Santa, I'm just using it as a metaphor, because I'm constantly being harassed I don't live up to the Christmas spirit." House said with a little shrug.

"Are you high?" the father finally asked.

"A bit, yes. But that got nothing to do with the fact I know what's wrong with your son, so sit down, my dear children, gather around the fire and good uncle Greg is gonna tell you the tale of the boy, who received the worst gift ever." House said, sitting down dramatically in one of the armchairs.

Mr. And Mrs. Cratchit both looked at the team confused, yet when Foreman gave a reassuring nod, they also turned to look at House questioningly.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, what is this gift you were talking about?" Mr Cratchit asked, House just rolling his eyes in a mockingly dramatic way.

"Don't rush me, you are ruining the whole atmosphere of my story, show some Christmas spirit and enjoy." he said.

"House." Foreman warned in a stern tone.

"Good, pff, see how hypocritical you all are, suddenly you just want facts." House continued, "So, when your son was still small and I mean even smaller than he is now, small enough to fit into your belly, Santa decided, that 24 vertebras were not enough and so gave your son a 25th as a gift, unfortunately there was not enough room in your son's spine and since the bones are still soft in the beginning, it got shifted around and ended up squished between the other vertebras. Since it is still wired to the spinal cord however, it is taking most of the information the brain sends to a dead end. Some is still coming through, which is the funny tickling your son sometimes feels." House explained.

"But what about the seizures, the weakness, the fatigue?" Timmy's mother asked.

"Like your son, also this degenerated vertebra apparently grows, just that it really has become a crappy gift, the useless kind that just stands around, catches dust and in Timmy's case grows into his spinal cord, pressing on the nerves and causing seizures, as well all other symptoms." House added.

"But how did nobody ever notice?" Mr Cratchig said.

"Because you two idiots were too worried about how you would pay bill, to ever have your kud properly examined! You can't see or feel something growing inside the spine! Every MRI would've showed you what the cause of his paralysis was!" House flared at the parents.

"Are you saying it was our fault?" Mr Cratchit huffed.

"Yes, I do!" House just hissed back.

"Stop it! Whoevers fault it was, what is far more important is, that we now know what is wrong with Timmy!" Mrs Cratchit interrupted.

"That's true." the father heaved a breath to calm his nerves, "And can you do something now?"

"First we need to perform a MRI to locate the degenerated extra vertebra." House answered, "Probably around the lumbar spine somewhere, since it does only interfere with the use of his legs."

"Once we locate it, we should hopefully be able to remove it surgically." Chase added.

"Does that mean Timmy will regain his ability to walk again?" The boy's mother asked weakly.

"It will be a dangerous and hard operation, but if the spinal cord is not too damaged and with quite a lot if rehab, he might be able to gain use of his legs." Foreman told seriously.

"I will walk?" Timmy sounded enthusiastic, while his father hugged his mother supporting, who was no longer able to hold back tears.

"But. But we can't afford all this." she sobbed.

"Then it might be time to start first thinking about our sons health and then our happiness." her husband sighed.

"I want to stay with you." Timmy whined, while his mother only sobbed.

"Timmy, you will walk again and I am sure we can visit you all the time. Hm?" his father tried to comfort the boy, yet it was clear to see he also was only able to hold back his tears, to be strong for his family.

The team turned to look at House, who just sat in the chair with a grim look in his face.

"Merry Christmas." he muttered.

Cameron had afterward gone straight to Cuddy's office and told her about everything, she had also pleaded her to try find a spot for Timmy in some fund program for underprivileged children and now Cuddy was sitting on the phone for the last three hours, trying to get the boy to be able to stay with his parents and have the surgery and rehab paid.

"Lawrence, please. You should see the family, yes, I know there are many families. Please, It's Christmas. No, oh, don't say that. Wait, I will call you again, I need to...hang up," Cuddy put down the phone and looked into the tearstained face of Mr Cratchit. Yet, it were tears of joy and relieve and an enormous smile was on his face.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Dr. Cuddy!" he wept, placing a bunch if papers on Cuddy's desk, because he hardly could speak.

"Timmy, Timmy got a spit in the George Weinstein Foundation fir underprivileged children! They will pay for his surgery and the rehab and his schooling! I don't know what to say! I'm sorry, I'm just so happy!" Mr Cratchit tried to speak somewhere between weeping.

Cuddy read through the papers quickly, it was true!

"That wasn't me." she finally said.

Mr Cratchit looked at her puzzled, "But who else?"

Cuddy just smiled, handing the papers back to Mr Cratchit,

"Oh, I think I know who it was and that is definitely not Santa Clause."


	9. Epiloge

When Mr Cratchit had left again, Cuddy left her office. The hospital had grown calm, most people were home, only those who had to, were left to stay here.

Cuddy knew exactly where she was going, she actually expected House to sit in his office, yet to her great surprise, the smaller office was empty and instead House was in the neighbouring, larger office if the team and by all means he was not alone!

At the table House was siting and with him Cameron, Chase, Foreman and Wilson. They had a turkey in their middle and lots of Tupperware with all kinds of other food, they were eating from all kinds of plates they had been able to find in the office and drinking grog from mugs. When Cuddy entered all turned to look at her, House of course being the first to speak.

"Welcome to the Christmas of the lonely hearts! Whoa, I almost didn't recognize you without the beard. Seriously, that reeeally did bring out your eyes, you should wear the stuff a whole lot more often!" he teased.

"Oh, stop it! You were running like a chicken. How did you find out, anyway?" she returned coyly.

"Wilson busted you." House smirked.

"What?" Wilson piped up, almost drooling some grog onto his shirt.

"In the morning I had a little argument with a guy dressed as Santa and when I told Wilson about it, because I thought you were the same person, he asked me, if I had the argument in the lobby. I first didn't notice, but then was ... blessed by a dream and realized that it only can be one of you two and since I saw Wilson and Santa together, well, do the math." House told.

"You still ran like a chicken." she smirked, "And don't pretend not to care, I know what you fid for little Timmy,"

"What did you do?" Cameron stared at House.

"He ensured the boy a place in the Weinstein Foundation. All his treatment will be paid for and schooling, too." Cuddy said, before House could say anything.

"How?" Wilson just gaped.

"I blackmailed Weinstein." and by seeing the shocked glances of the others added, "Okay, he owed me a favour, if that sounds better to you. I might have caught him in a brothel, while his wife thought he was on a medical conference. Then again, he was performing some really though inspection of that this girl, might as well gotten confused..."

"Ew." Cameron shook her head, while it was this time all three present men who shared a smirk.

"Do you want to sit down? We have plenty." Cameron then offered.

"I see that. Where did you get all that from anyway?" she asked, while sitting down.

"Wilson's wife ran away, so he had some left." House teased, while stuffing some turkey in his mouth.

"She did not run away! She just had to, well, all of the sudden go to her parents place for the holidays." Wilson told, mumbling a bit around the end.

Cuddy just shot him a short glance, but instead of saying anything to that, said:

"You are actually having a turkey for Christmas?"

"Oh, give me a break! You are the last to mock me about enjoying Christmas!" Wilson huffed, yet it was clear to see he was also glad to drop the former subject.

"Turkey?" Chase meanwhile offered.

"Yes, thank you." Cuddy just smiled, taking a spoon full of potatoes on her plate, while nodding gratefully at Fireman, who brought her a mismatching mug with grog in it.

"Well, for someone thinking Christmas is just for hypocrites, you are having quite a nice one here." Cuddy then said to House.

"Oh, I just said it's for hypocrites. I never said I was none." House smirked.

"Well, then a Merry Christmas, I guess." Wilson grinned, raising his mug.

"May hypocrisy bless us!" House called, also lifting his mug.

"Each and every one of us," the others said in a chorus, clicking their mugs together with a laugh.

**The end.**

**I hope you enjoyed this little story. **

**Thanks a lot for reading and all the lovely reviews.**

**Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! :3**


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